A Sermon Preached on the Feast of the Transfiguration
Sunday, August 6, 2024
The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
Chapel of St. James the Fisherman, Wellfleet, Ma
Exodus 34:29-35 – Luke 9:28-36
The late Mary Oliver has been called the patron saint of paying attention. In her poetry, she suggests that if you look at it long enough, a grasshopper might teach you something about prayer, and if you listen carefully enough, water splashing on a stone by the river’s edge might be the voice of God speaking to you. According to this muse of the Outer Cape, “To pay attention…is our endless and proper work.” This morning Mary Oliver offers us instructions for living: “Pay attention, be astonished, and tell about it.”
The scripture readings appointed for this Sunday are also about paying attention, being astonished, and telling others about it. The people of the Exodus paid attention to Moses and were astonished by his sunburn as he descended from his visit with God on Mt. Sinai. Moses paid attention to God whom he encountered on that mountain top. He was astonished by what he saw and heard, and felt compelled to talk about it with his companions in the wilderness.
Today’s gospel story is also about paying attention and being astonished. Jesus, standing with his forebears Moses and Elijah, was transfigured in the presence of his closest disciples. After Simon Peter missed the mark by suggesting that they build dwellings and create a permanent structure on that mountain top, God intervened. Speaking from the clouds, the divine voice said, “Listen.” Don’t be so quick to act. Rather, pay attention to what you see and hear. Jesus’ companions were astonished by what they saw and heard.
So this morning, I ask you: Are you paying attention these days? To whom and to what are you giving your attention? Are you listening to both sides of the story? Are you paying attention to one news source or many? Are you paying attention to too much news or not enough?
Are you paying attention to your body and your spirit? Are you paying attention to your work, diet, sleep, and exercise patterns? Are you paying attention to the stress and toxicity in your life?
Are you paying attention to the vision and voice of God? If so, are you astonished by what you see and hear, and are you willing to tell others about it? I invite you to imagine what the world would be like and what our own lives would be like if we, following Moses, Elijah, Jesus and the prophets (both ancient and modern) really paid attention to the Holy One in our midst, if we were astonished by what we heard, and if we were willing to tell about it.
It is difficult to pay attention. New York Times columnist Ezra Klein has written that, “Attention is the most precious resource we have — it’s the window through which we experience our lives. And for many of us, that window is fogging.”
According to the Centers for Disease Control, about one in every nine children and one in every twenty adults in this country have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or ADHD. With all of the stimuli around us, health experts expect this statistic to continue to climb.
In his book Stolen Focus, Scottish journalist Johann Hari writes that, “Our ability to pay attention — to focus — [is] cracking and breaking,” He suggests that we are “unable to simply give attention to things that matter.” Hari argues that it’s not really a matter of personal fault; our attention didn’t just collapse. Our ability to concentrate and pay attention was “stolen” by environmental, economic and societal factors beyond our individual control, such as: the increasing pace of life, the growth of technology, the addictive nature of social media, and even our fast food diets.
Princeton historian D. Graham Burnett agrees. He suggests that our attention is actually being “fracked” by technological acceleration and our rapidly expanding and ever evolving digital economy and social network.
I know this to be true in my own life. When I was diagnosed with an acute, unexplainable, progressive, early onset, dementia eight years ago, I had to reduce the stimuli in my life so that my brain could rest. As my world quieted down, my brain began to heal, my cognition improved, and my attention span increased.
In my recovery, I’ve learned that I can’t take my brain health for granted. I must conscientiously steer clear of detrimental influences on my cognitive health and nurture habits that promote my brain’s well-being. For instance, I recently suspended my Facebook account, because I found that it was “fracking” my attention and “stealing” my focus.
It’s a challenge for most of us modern humans to focus our attention, look and listen carefully, and truly see and hear what others, even God, are trying to say and show to us. We have a tendency to interrupt and finish the sentences of others, miss visual and oral cues, jump to conclusions, write the end of the script, and offer advice or rebuke too soon. No wonder so many people get frustrated and feel underheard, unseen and unappreciated.
Our collective inability to look and listen attentively affects many aspects of daily living – our work, home, spiritual and civic lives; our shopping, entertainment, health and fitness habits; even our most intimate relationships. It’s hard to see and hear that which is important and perhaps even transformative. We’re often too busy or distracted to stop, look and pay attention to and be astonished by the world we inhabit, much less the presence of the Divine power that created it.
As Annie Dillard so acutely observed in Teaching a Stone to Talk, we are like “cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute…having coffee and doughnuts on Deck C, [assuming that] someone is minding the ship, correcting the course, avoiding icebergs and shoals, fueling the engines, watching the radar screen, and noting the weather reports radioed in from shore.” But are we looking around, paying attention to the reef, the shoreline, or the ship in our course? As Dillard asks, are we even attentive to “the sleeping god [who] may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god [who] may draw us out to where we can never return.”
That’s the story of the Transfiguration. A small group of disciples went up on that mountain top with Jesus who was transfigured before their very eyes. They, in response, were drawn out to a place from which they could never return.
When it comes to the spiritual practice of paying attention and being astonished, mountains have a lot to teach. They are sacred places where people have always sought spiritual renewal and guidance. Mountains are cosmological metaphors – symbolic dwelling places – of the divine, therefore favored locations for shrines, temples and altars.
Rising high above the landscape, mountains invite and invoke our attentiveness. They are places of vision, where one can encounter the intersection between heaven and earth.
Jon Kabat-Zinn, Professor of Medicine Emeritus at the University of Massachusetts and founder of the world-renown Center for Mindfulness in Medicine, Health Care, and Society, explains in his book Wherever You Go, There You Are that there are outer and inner mountains, and their very presence beckons to us and calls us to ascend. Kabat-Zinn, a student of Zen Buddhism, suggests that the mountain climb is a powerful metaphor for the spiritual journey, and that life itself is a mountain, “serving us up perfect opportunities to do the inner work of growing in [spiritual] strength and wisdom.”
That’s why pilgrimage – especially when it involves mountains – is so central to spiritual practice. If you don’t pay attention while climbing up and down mountains, you can get really hurt, and if you’re not astonished along the way, then you’re not paying attention.
But you don’t have to physically go to the mountains to learn this spiritual practice. You can practice attentiveness simply by slowly and intentionally climbing the stairs in your home, the dune to the beach or the path – being attentive to your surroundings, your movement, and your thoughts.
In mindfulness practice, there is an exercise called mountain meditation. It invites us to picture in our mind’s eye the most beautiful, magnificent mountain we can recall or imagine. It encourages us to focus carefully on this mountain, noting its massive, unmoving nature – the universal qualities that make it a mountain. Then, when we feel ready, we are invited to imagine our body sitting or standing still as a mountain – becoming one with the mountain so that we might practice the unwavering sturdiness of the mountain. By becoming a mountain in our meditation, contemplation and prayer life, we can connect with and claim for ourselves its strength, stability, and wisdom.
We are entering a period in our nation’s history, and perhaps that of humankind itself, where we have got to listen carefully to one another and to the world around us. We’ve got to ask our friends, family members, neighbors, co-workers, and possibly even strangers what is on their mind. And then we’ve got to listen carefully to their answers, and pay attention to the world as they see it. We might be surprised by what we hear and find common ground between us.
This week, I want to invite you to go to your mountain (perhaps, you’ll find it at the pond or on the beach) and ponder the question of attentiveness. To whom or to what do you need to pay attention? Is it your body or your diet? Is it your family or your work? Is it your politics or your civic engagement? Is it your prayer life or your spiritual practice? Is your world or your God? Quite possibly, in fact probably, it is some combination of all of the above. And as you’re paying attention, allow yourself to be astonished by what you see and hear. And if it seems appropriate, be courageous enough to talk about it.
I think Ezra Klein is correct in his observation that, “Life is the sum total of what we pay attention to. What forces are in control of our attention — and how we get it back — is a defining question of our age.”
So, perhaps our spiritual task is as straightforward as Mary Oliver suggests: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” Try it and let me know how it goes for you.